Bedtime
by Scribbler
Summary: [one shot] What do thunder storms, criminology books and fairytales have in common? Answer: not a lot, but when Beast Boy can't sleep, Raven finds a way to sew them together. [Not a romance]


**Disclaimer – **Not even close to being mine.

**A/N –** Instigated by _Livia's Random DC Generator,_ which brought forth the prompt 'A character that uses telepathy tells a bedtime story'.

**Feedback – **Always.

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_Bedtime_

By Scribbler

September 2004

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_Remember that fear always lurks behind perfectionism. Confronting your fears and allowing yourself the right to be human can, paradoxically, make you a far happier and more productive person._ – Dr. David M. Burns.

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There are instances in life when company is all a person needs. Human beings are gregarious. From the first bipeds with opposable thumbs, they have stuck together in family units and constructed equivalents when no blood relatives are present. Yet a lot of time has elapsed since the primordial soup. Humans have grown and evolved, severing their ties to their ancestors and each other. As the rest of nature bands together in survivalist strata, humans strike further apart: I, me, mine. So, equally, there are also times when complete and utter solitude is more precious than diamonds.

Raven was not an overt subscriber to the first option, but she knew how to make it plain when she wanted the second. It was a tacit thing, acknowledged by all and generally taken behind the closed door of her bedroom. Terra once asked why she was such a 'cold fish', to which Starfire had looked at her blankly and said, "She just is." Which was just how Raven wanted it. Emotional connections were cumbersome and dangerous. Had it not been in her best interests to work with the Titans then she might have adopted a position more like Batman – without, of course, the brightly coloured sidekick.

However, she did not see why reserve should outlaw her from the communal spaces of the Tower.

So it was that she drifted into the TV room, a book tucked under one arm, and took up a space on the couch. Nobody else was around – not entirely surprising, since it was almost three in the morning and they'd only finished their latest spat with Control Freak at one. Late-night crime fighting keyed Raven to a spot in herself that excluded sleep. Meditation helped, usually – but Control Freak summoned memories of the night her unrestrained powers all but killed her teammates and herself.

Raven was capable of many things.

She was more than capable of fear.

She did not hate to admit it. Admitting was the first step to combating a problem, as psychiatrists everywhere would attest. But Raven's problems were not the type to be wiped out by a few bits of therapy and psychobabble. She didn't like to think what wiping them out would involve. So the entire issue was one of many neatly packaged, never-to-be opened boxes shelved far back in her brain.

_Thin curls of darkness wrapping around his arms and legs, tugging and yanking and pulling a struggling body into the void..._

Raven's head jerked up. She opened the book on her lap. It was one of several monotonous texts designed to encourage sleep. And even if she didn't sleep, at least she'd be a trifle more informed come morning.

A scream, unearthly in its capacity to express sheer panic. A flare of green light as the terrified head goes under, submerged by a hundred, a thousand, a million writhing, squirming, furry little bodies...

Raven concentrated. This book concerned itself with collected papers on criminology, and had an interesting third chapter on psychoses and their effect on the delinquent mind – in layman's terms, why nutty criminals were more dangerous than the non-nutty variety. It quoted several leading experts, and referenced a few cases that sounded suspiciously like those perpetrated by the Joker and Harley Quinn.

The gnaw of dread in her belly. Turning to discover isolation, loneliness, the absence of a body that was there only moments ago. You're on your own now, kid. You're on your own, and they're coming to get you...

She was just coming to a citation that linked them with the Scarecrow, when the window became a portal of white light. Thunder sounded seconds after, heralding the pitter-pat of rain on glass. Raven looked up, noted the breaking storm, and went back to reading.

She paid slightly more attention when, after three more spectacular lightshows, a small furry bullet shot from under the couch and grappled its way under a cushion. The fluffed-up green tail was an unmistakable giveaway.

Raven ground her teeth. "Beast Boy, why are you always so insistent on disturbing my privacy?"

The kitten mewled.

She lifted her hand. The cushion glowed black and did likewise. Beast Boy assumed his usual shape and made a grab for it. Seeing no reason to keep it from him, she allowed the grab to be successful and fixed him with an eye so piercing as to be positively spear-like.

He squirmed. "Catnapping," he mumbled by way of explanation. "Lightning woke me up."

It was not uncommon for him to go house-cat and fall asleep in the oddest of places – especially when he was too exhausted to make it to his own room. Cyborg once found him snoozing as a seal on the jetty, and again as a gecko on one of the T-Car's tyres. Safety took a backseat when Beast Boy was tired.

Raven was a little perturbed she hadn't sensed him earlier. Mayhap she was a little more disconcerted by the night's events than she thought. Or perhaps she just had to work on outer sensitivity as much as she did inner clarity. She filed the thought away to peruse later.

"Be that as it may, I'd appreciate it if you'd go away now. I presume you're able to find your room by yourself?" She waved a hand and went back to reading.

After a few seconds, she looked up again.

"You're still here?"

Beast Boy fidgeted, arms wrapped tight around the cushion and pressing it to his midriff. His gloves were off, tossed who-knew-where. Above all the Titans, he was worst for losing the stupid things. Raven saw the way his fingers bleached to a lighter shade of green at the tip, where they were pressed tight into the cushion. She saw the way he stroked the fabric with one thumb in a nervous tick she'd somehow never noticed before. All the time spent forcibly ignoring him, his pranks, and his endless, endless jokes had worked better than she'd thought. The habit was dextrous enough to be a longstanding one.

"Can I stay with you?" he asked. "I mean, just because, y'know..."

"No, Beast Boy, I _don't _know. Have you forgotten the way to your room? Do you need someone to hold your hand to make sure you get there unharmed?" Raven's voice dripped sarcasm.

His eyes remained steadfastly downcast. "No. I just... I don't like storms, is all."

"Since when?"

"Since... ever?"

"Beast Boy, you are a terrible liar. Please leave. I wish for only a little peace before morning brings the next crisis demanding our attention. You are not peaceful. You are not quiet. You are not capable of anything below a hundred decibels. Please. Leave. Me. Alone."

Beast Boy's grip on the cushion tightened. "You remember the last storm we had?"

"No, I don't remember the last storm we had. I'm trying hard not to remember this storm so I don't have to pay you back tomorrow."

"I do. Remember it, I mean."

"Obviously."

"It was when we rented that scary movie. Y'know, right after the first time we met Control Freak? Stupid fat ginger... freakazoid."

Raven went very still. This was her cue for more disdain, but she remained quiet.

"I guess the... the resemblance... Control Freak plus late night Monster Movie Marathon plus big creepy storm equals... so, yeah. Best place to be is by you, right? I mean, last time you were the last one to get got, and you totally kicked your powers' ass. Asses. No, ass. Singular. Or is it plural? _Powers_, with an 's', so it's plural, right? Or is it one of those weird grammar things where's it's right but it's wrong, and looks wrong, but is actually right? Um... you nailed your powers, Raven."

"You're babbling," Raven pointed out.

"Am I?" Beast Boy smiled nervously. "So I am. I'm told it's an irritating trait. Is it?"

"Unquestionably."

"Oh. Right. Heh."

Raven took a breath. "Beast Boy, my powers got out of my control because I was undergoing a period of denial. I am no longer in that denial, and though you may find it entertaining to scare yourself spitless with late-night monster movies, I can think of a thousand things I'd rather spend my time on. Therefore, you have nothing to worry about. There has been no stimulus to invoke another power glitch, and no evidence to suggest I'm not in complete control of myself."

"Yeah?"

She narrowed her eyes. The cushion flew from his hands and into her own in a blur of obsidian. "Satisfied?"

"Um, sure. Yeah. Whatever." He drew his knees up to his chest and started playing with the loose fabric on one knee. "But can I still stay here for a while?"

Raven resisted the urge to stand up and walk out the room. Instead, she closed her book and set it to one side. Beast Boy watched her with wary eyes, and shifted away a smidge when she turned her body to him.

"Fear is all in the mind, Beast Boy. It's conquerable. You just have to face up to it."

He goggled. "Um, did you just attempt to comfort me? 'Cause, if you did, I'd like to know where the real Raven is, please."

"No, this is not comfort. This is me pointing out the foolishness of your idiosyncrasies."

"My what?"

"There. Is. Nothing. To. Be. Afraid. Of."

"Except you?"

"You... yes, okay, except me when an irritating elf-wannabe won't go to bed and leave me alone."

"And Star when she gets really, really pissed?"

"Are you trying to bleed?"

"Sorry, sorry." He raised his hands in apology. "I get that you're all safe to be around and junk. Well, to a point. Provided there's no repeat of the Noodle Incident. Or Operation Gum-in-Boots. Or... yeah. Um, so I get that, but still... I'm experiencing momentary wussiness."

Raven raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"There's a chink in my machismo. Very debilitating. May not clear up 'til morning. Or at least the end of the storm."

"Machismo? Debilitating? And you didn't understand me when I said 'idiosyncrasies'?"

He shrugged. "I'm a complex guy."

"I'm sure." Raven folded her cloak over her legs. It looked a little like a blanket on a wheelchair-user. She got up and walked to the window, staring at the dappled topography of the city. It stared back at her like a plate of burning eyes. "I think I might go back to my room, though."

He was on his feet in a flash. "Curious thing about momentary wussiness. It involves the need for company, and since all the others are asleep..."

Raven looked down to where he was holding her wrist. "Let go," she said in a low monotone.

Beast Boy dropped her like a live electrical output. He even backed off a few steps. Lightning flashed, and Raven felt his aura flare with panic that subsided almost as soon as it started. It wasn't the usual shock that accompanied lightning, but a genuine flicker of gut-wrenching dread.

She rolled her eyes. "Sit."

"What?"

"Sit down. Don't make me tell you twice."

He returned to the couch. She placed herself next to him in a lotus position and laid a palm on either side of his head. His eyes darted left and right at her wrists.

"Is this for you to suck out all my bad feelings or something?"

"If you'd like the room invaded by personifications of your most private nightmares."

"Um, going to have to pass on that one."

Raven didn't answer. She closed her eyes; let herself get a feel for his mind on more than a superficial basis. She felt his hair brushing her index fingers, felt the faint pulse of veins in his temples, and allowed herself to tune them out. Her breathing evened to match his, her heart almost finding a new rhythm. It was physically impossible, but that was what it always felt like during this sort of thing – a physical connection to bolster the psychic one.

"This some kind of Vulcan Mind Meld?" Beast Boy asked, ruining the moment.

"Beast Boy," Raven said evenly, "the choice is yours. Either you can shut up, or I can broadcast the fact that you actually fell asleep under the couch because you were trying to get a look at Starfire's underwear again."

"Shutting up."

She fell back into the rhythm and reached out with a finger of empathy, finding the most recent emotion to guide her down and through and _in_. Usually her abilities were passive, but she could school them into a more active role if she had the inclination. It was just easier to tune out emotional white noise than attempt to influence it. Meddling with the wrong sort of mind could mean backlash, which was painful and a nuisance because it had the unfortunate tendency to knock her out and/or cause killer migraines.

Beast Boy's mind wasn't sufficiently trained in the psychic arts to provide any resistance. There was the initial protest that all sentient beings put up, but she bypassed that and sank into his synapses. She was careful to keep away from his memory banks, instead poking around for the receptors.

On Azarath, Raven had been taught since she was very small on how to use her abilities. The most proficient extrasensory tutors in the land had each taken a hand in her education, with the result that she was regarded as the most powerful psychic in their long and colourful history. She was also the one who required the most self-control. Even so, at the beginning of her training, one of her tutors had told her, "The mind is the most flexible muscle in the body, child. Use it. A muscle not used is a muscle wasted, and a muscle wasted is only so much dead weight."

Beast Boy let out a small gasp. Raven heard it on the way out, before she shut the door behind her and, on a whim, shored up his defences by implanting a few of her own. You could never be too careful where supervillains were concerned.

"What," he asked after a moment, "was that?"

"It's called a spiritual dump," Raven replied, picking up her book without a trace of uncertainty. "Not the prettiest term, but the most descriptive. I just downloaded something into your brain for you to think on while that 'chink in your machismo' clears up."

Beast Boy waggled a finger in one ear. "So... is this your version of Red Riding Hood I'm seeing?"

"Not even close. It's a bedtime story told to children where I come from. It's meant to dispel fears and give artificial courage for a few hours. But it has nothing as beautified and meaningless as Earth tales."

"I guessed that when I saw the dragon with nine heads. And the... hey, is that little girl you?"

"No. You got the memories from me, so of course there's going to be an approximation of my psychic self in there somewhere. She's not important."

"Oh. Right. Although it's kind of weird to see you at that age. What are you, six? Seven? Is that when you first heard the story? Or had it, uh, downloaded into you?"

"Beast Boy, if you don't close your mouth soon I'm going to telekinetically seal your lips shut."

"Sorry. Um, are you sure this is supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's supposed to be a gift to make you shut up and stop bothering me."

He sighed and leaned his head back. "Of course. Silly me. I just didn't realise it without the - " Thunder rolled over head, impossibly loud. Beast Boy flinched. "- gift-wrap."

"It's entirely possible that your affinity for breaking down and rearranging your own DNA makes emotional transactions difficult. Your brain might be the wrong shape."

"Wrong shape?" he felt the back of his skull. "Geez, don't I feel special. Hey, wouldn't it have been easier for you to just tell me the story?"

Raven didn't answer.

"Ah. Right. Yeah."

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Lightning blazed a multi-forked trail across the sky, breaking up the monotony before it had chance to set in.

"Raven?"

Raven counted to ten in her head. "What?"

"Even if it didn't work, thanks for trying. And... for sticking around to keep me company."

"That threat about broadcasting still stands, you know."

"Shutting up."

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FINIS.

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End file.
